


Synesthesia

by KillTheDirector



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, M/M, Perfume AU, creepy Q is creepy, serial killer Q, this makes no sense, what am i doing with my life jfc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillTheDirector/pseuds/KillTheDirector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were beautiful and I needed to keep them bottled up and with me forever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synesthesia

**Author's Note:**

> _someone needs to write a 00q crossover fic of skyfall and perfume._
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> _like, q is killing people and james is sent to go looking for him. and then he finds q and for some weird reason ends up liking q (because technically he’s not that crazy. he only kills the girls because if he didn’t, they won’t let him take their scents. he’s kind of adorable in his own creepy way. like when he asks what a legend is. so james is all -swoon- and intrigued because q is so smart and stuff.) i have no idea how. or something of that sort._
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> I needed to do it... //sob But seeing as I've never seen _Perfume_ the information regarding it comes from wikipedia.

"A girl with red hair was my first victim." Q's lips move away from Bond's neck, down his chest, hovering over the planes of his stomach; the boy glances up, grey-green eyes sparking with remembrance as his long fingers fiddle with the agent's belt. Q lets out a shaky breath, gaze flickering down to study the older man's scarred skin, mouth and tongue following. 

"She worked at a Tesco, and everyday I would go there to see her...she suggested the plums." After undoing the belt, Q uses his teeth to tug down the zipper of Bond's trousers; the older man grits his jaw, fingers clenching in the hospital-clean sheets on Q's bed. He allows the murderer to talk, watching the way Q sucks in a sharp inhale of breath, focus half on taking in the agent's scent and half on his story. 

_"Let me..." The boy fumbles awkwardly over his words, shuffling from one foot to the other while Bond holds him in place by his slender throat. The gun pointed at the murderer is ready to fire, but Bond hesitates, watching as long fingers comb through messy curls. "Let me sample you." Wide grey-green plead with ice blue, and Bond hesitates to pull the trigger._

_He can hear the sobbing of another kidnapped woman in the other room and still he_ hesitates.

"I didn't mean to." Q looks up from his position hovering over Bond's unzipped trousers; he bites a full pink lip, eyebrows tilting up in worry while long fingers curl tight in the fabric. 

"I believe you." Bond says, voice rough and tone not convincing. Q smiles crookedly; he moves down, letting out pleased little breaths when he tugs away fabric. 

"...I waited for her until she got off of work...she started screaming so I held her mouth. I didn't _mean_ to." Q rests his forehead against Bond's hip, thin shoulders covered by a cardigan that could've once passed as emerald slumping. 

_"You smell like cinnamon and gunpowder." The boy clings to the agent, eyes half lidded and mouth going slightly slack. Bond tries to pull away, but the murderer's hands are tight around his wrist. "It's a wonderful combination..." He nearly whimpers, pink tongue flickering out to wet his lips._

_Bond shoves the boy away, following the sound of the woman's sobs; the murderer leans against a wall, taking deep breaths and watching as the agent stalks down the thin corridor that leads to his distillery._

_The woman inside is a beautiful waifish red head, her mouth gagged and arms bound; she screeches when she sees Bond, blue eyes going wide. He hushes her softly, tells her that everything will be okay, he's here to help--_

_Her eyes flicker to something behind him, and when he turns, he's greeted by a golf club to the back of his head._

"I killed a florist who smelt of lavender and tried to preserve her smell using hot enfleurage...but it only succeeded in creating a disgusting soap." Q runs his tongue over the skin of Bond's lower stomach, causing the agent to hold back a groan. He bites the inside of his cheek till he tastes blood and looks away from the sight

"It was a week after I attempted again...I hired a prostitute and we rented a hotel room where she had taken customers before." The murderer's lashes flutter, hot breath fanning over the wet skin of Bond's stomach; the agent wants to grab the boy by his hair and shove him down. "I had a plan this time, to use cold enfleurage instead of hot...she started fighting back..." Think fingers curl around the waist band of Bond's pants, tugging the material down so that the agent is fully exposed. Q mouth perks at the corner, dimpling one cheek before he leans down and presses a small kiss to the inside of the agent's thigh.

"She had to be taken care of...but _finally_ I was able to harness her scent." His breath fans over Bond's hardening cock, slender hands sweeping over the top of the older man's legs almost stroking. Q sucks in a sharp breath, pink tongue flickering out to moisten his red lips; Bond resists the urge to growl, his fingers gripping the sheets tight enough to turn his knuckles white. 

The murderer confesses to several other kidnappings and killings, mouth brushing against the head of the agent's prick as he does so, thin fingers dancing and coaxing over the taunt skin. Bond holds his breath and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning, blue eyes dully locked on the way Q bobs his head, barely taking the tip of the agent's cock into his mouth. 

_Bond wakes up with a sharp head ache and the feeling of someone watching him. There's a smell like boiling meat in the air with the barest scent of flowers mingling; it smells slightly waxy, which causes Bond's stomach to roll. He sits up, noting the squeak of the mattress beneath him, the crisp white sheets crinkling as he moves to survey the room; it's bare with only a messy desk shoved into the corner, a laptop perched precariously on a stack of papers._

_Bond's fingers twitch for the gun he has stowed in his suit jacket, but lets out a sharp curse when he can't find it. "You're awake!" He turns towards the bedroom doorway, mouth thinning to a line when the murderer he had been sent to kill smiles happily from the opening._

_The boy is whip-thin, full mouth perked in an almost shy smile and grey-green eyes bright from behind thick glasses._ Of course he would be a murderer...no one sees him as a threat. _"I was afraid I hit you too hard..." White teeth gnaw at the corner of his mouth, thin fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his cardigan._

_"You haven't chained me up." Bond says, muscles ready to spring and attack. The boy laughs lightly, placing a knee on the mattress and leaning forward on his hands; he tilts his head, exposing the long column of his throat, lids lowering to half-mast._

_"Where would the fun in that be?"_

Q knows how to use his mouth with the barest hint of teeth; Bond bites down on the inside of his cheek till he tastes blood, releasing a long stream of air when he can't hold his breath any longer. The murderer pulls away from the agent's prick with an obscene sounding 'pop', his red lips shiny with spit and eyes blown so there's only a hint of grey-green; he uses the flat of his tongue to lap at the head of Bond's cock like some sort of perverted lolly. 

The murderer makes soft whining noises in the back of his throat which causes vibrations to jolt down Bond's spine when the boy takes him fully into his mouth. He cracks open an eye (not aware that he had shut them in the first place) to see that Q has a hand down his trousers, face flushed brightly; the sight causes Bond's mouth to go dry, and he feels himself coming close. 

Q gives his prick a final hard _suck_ , the hand in his trousers stilling for a moment before his own moan is muffled by the come shooting into his mouth. The murderer pulls away, tongue flickering out to clean away the come that clung to his flushed mouth; Bond catches his breath, swallowing thickly and wonder _what the hell did I just do_ when Q shimmies up his body to lay in a heap on top of him. 

Skinny arms wrap around his neck, pulling the agent down to the mattress; Bond stares blankly up at the ceiling, mind still attempting to catch up with his actions. Lips press against the underside of his jaw. "They were beautiful and I needed to keep them bottled up and with me forever."


End file.
